


in the eyes of the beholder

by NoxnNoir



Category: Naruto
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, An attempt at World-building, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Friendship, Gen, I'll think of something, Illusions, OC, Other tags to be added, Self-Insert ish, War, an attempt I stress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoxnNoir/pseuds/NoxnNoir
Summary: “Be the beholder, and never the participant". It was a saying the clan abided by. Kurama Shiun was taught to look out for inconsistencies. To notice; to watch; to doubt; to retrace origins of such occurrences. And she did exactly that. SI/OC-ish.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Got sucked into a black hole of SI/OC inserts and I don’t see myself leaving (or saving myself) anytime soon. Alright, so, here we go, have another SI/OC story, inspired by all the other Naruto SI-genres out there. Drop a review to tell me what you think. Enjoy~
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. Only my OCs.

.

.

Her rite of passage was a quiet affair, if not surprising.

The Third Hokage sat across her in full regalia, white cloak billowing and his large hat set gently beside him as she performed the last steps of the tea ceremony. If he noticed the slight tremble in her small hands, he didn’t say. She offered him a bowl of tea which he gratefully accepted, then to two of her elders sitting beside her and settled back in her place, quiet as a shadow, silent unless spoken to, as she was taught by the clan about propriety.

“Why, this is a refreshing,” said the Hokage after a long sip.

“Your words honor us.” It was the branch head, Unkai, a hawkish looking man with light brown hair, who answered instead. “Chrysanthemum cools the body especially in such a fine summer weather.”

(It certainly was a fine summer weather.)

“Hopefully, the summer breeze and rain arrives soon. The weather has been terribly warm these days,” the Third commented. He took a sip from his tea. “And no, the honor should be mine, Unkai-dono. My visit today was unannounced and untimely that I seemed to have interrupted an important occasion here - for that I apologise.”

“Nonsense,” Unkai answered. “You’re welcome to the Kurama abode at all times, Hokage-sama. We’ll always be pleased to receive you.” Unkai gave a slight bow of head, as did she and the other clan elder.

She continued her vigil of silence and simply watched and listened with her hands resting on her lap and legs folded beneath her in a perfect seiza - just as her sister had taught.

“If I may, I must admit that I’m quite intrigued by this occasion that I’ve interrupted - but that is, if only you and your clan wouldn’t mind my asking, of course.” The Third set down his bowl of tea. “I would most certainly understand the need for discretion for private clan matters, and I can certainly respect that.”

“No, no, not at all. Please,” Unkai appeased, almost hurriedly. “If you’ve the time, perhaps, a demonstration would be best. Every Kurama child undergoes a simple rite of passage when they are of a certain age. You’re more than welcome to watch the exhibition rite.” He gestured at her with a gentle lift of hand. 

In acknowledgement, she bowed low in her seiza, held it for no longer than a few seconds and returned to her original position. The approval in the eyes of her clan elders was unmistakable, she thought nothing of it. Instead, her honey-coloured eyes traced the patterns cast by leaves from a nearby tree in the morning light, spilled strewn over the Third’s silken robes. 

(It was a hypnotic dance of flickers and movement whenever a breeze swept by.)

“Ah, I heard of the tradition. Truly, Unkai-dono, you and your clan honor me much by including me in such an important milestone of your clan.” The Third chuckled, hearty and warm. It was a nice sound. She likened it to the warmth of a fireplace during winter’s breath. “I’ll gladly accept that honor.”

“Thank you, Hokage-sama,” said Unkai. Then to her, he gave a slow, grave nod as if to convey the importance of the situation. “Whenever you’re ready, child.”

She dutifully dipped her head in response, a murmured gratitude passing through her lips softly. Her elders watched quietly, almost eagerly at the proceeding from the side; at this _opportunity _to prove their worth. But the attention didn’t faze her.__

“Is the tea to your satisfaction, Hokage-sama?” she asked, always mindful of her manners under watchful eyes. 

“Oh, yes it is. Thank you for the tea, and for the ceremony. It was very nicely done.” The Third cradled his tea. He smiled gently and the lines around his dark eyes crinkled. “You must be Shiun.”

“Yes, I am.” She returned the smile. “Named after purple clouds, sir. And you’re very welcome.”

“Purple clouds indeed. A beautiful name to match a beautiful phenomenon.”

“Thank you, but I wouldn’t know, sir. I’ve never seen purple clouds before - have _you _?” She ignored the slight noise of indignation and the warning glance from one of her elders at the overly-familiar tone, and tilted her head. “In fact, can clouds really be purple, or is it just the colour of the sky reflected into the clouds.”__

__A grandfatherly chuckle indulged her. “That certainly begs the question. Why can’t it be both?”_ _

__“Even if it’s just a mere trick of the eyes?” she said._ _

__“It can very well be that too. My, what a curious one, you are. It’s a good quality to have,” the Third said. “And how old are you?”_ _

__“I’ve just turned six.”_ _

__“And do you have any hopes and dreams you wish to achieve?”_ _

__Shiun blinked, slowly as though not quite fully understanding the question but tilted her head. Her voice was quiet and hushed as she spoke. “Not in particular. But I hope…” she trailed off, almost distantly as a sort of solemnity drifted into her eyes. She tried again. “But I hope the peace lasts.”_ _

__At that, the Third levelled a steady, unreadable gaze at her. Then finally, with a tinge of wistfulness lacing his words, he said like a sigh,” I certainly hope so too.”_ _

__She wasn’t certain if she caught the saddened flicker across his face, but she let silence fall at the sudden shift of atmosphere in the room, as she only could._ _

__She asked, “is there anything you’d like to see?”_ _

__“To see? Is that what your rite of passage entrails?”_ _

__“Yes, sir. Usually the honored elders tell me what they want to see and I follow according to their wishes. It can be anything, truly - something small; objects like a trinket or a kunai, or even a vase of roses and vines growing,” she explained. And she asked again. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to see?”_ _

__The Third Hokage considered it. Then, he brought his tea to his lips, a mirthful twinkle in his eyes as he smiled._ _

__“Surprise me.”_ _

____

.

.

She let him see imagery drawn from memory.

She let him see the beginning of last spring.

She let him see the beginning of last spring; of the still snow-crusted spring blossom buds on branches of a tree in the Kurama compound: ice melting, buds stretching and growing into full bloom, cherry petals curling out toward the mid-morning light as if reaching for the sun, before scattering adrift in pink rioting clouds with the wind. A lone petal landed gently on the surface of the Third’s tea before it too, disappeared in a ghostly wisp.

She let him see the Village; of the view of her favourite perch in the civilian market district: fabrics of interwoven cloth from the colour spectrum hanging from building to buildings, businesses booming in shopfronts, vendors eagerly selling their wares with beckoning arms, streets filled with throngs of people and children running about, and in the distance, more buildings in the midst of construction - the village _thriving _under the watchful gazes of the three rock-like sentinel faces belonging to the Hokages.__

The images faded vividly in and out, and Sarutobi Hiruzen watched it all materialise before him as she weaved her craft. He appreciated the finesse and the subtle teachings of the finer genjutsu arts taught to her and expected nothing less. 

As expected from the Kuramas; a clan that has produced the finest genjutsu-users Konohagakure’s could ever have; a clan that mastered discerning illusions and reality like an art form: beautiful but just as deadly; a clan that once upon a time stood prestigious for all its glory and skill, but now a remnant of its former memory. 

_She would go far with her skill in genjutsu _, Sarutobi thought as he took a long sip from his tea,_ just like the rest of her clan._

_It was a pity their numbers were dwindling._

.

.

The next day, the clan emblem was inked onto her upper arm: three uplifting strokes made to reassemble a simple rendition of an outstretched wing in pale green. For the flight of the impossible.

It marked a completed rite of passage.

(It was worth the exhaustion she felt after, for a meager six-year old child.)

It marked her a true proven member of the clan for all to see - the pride of the clan, just like every other Kurama. 

Naturally, the clan expected nothing less. Especially from a daughter of the main family.

.

.

**Chapter One ******

  
**Something Ends; Something Begins ******

.

.

The manner people walked often told something.

Strong strides translated to confidence. A drag of feet and slumped shoulders implied unhappiness from a range of lacking enthusiasm to distress. Ramrod straight postures, on the other hand, spoke up formal upbringings with heavy etiquette reinforcement, usually reserved for the upper-class civilians and noble caste residing in the capital; _sometimes _, it was mere arrogant, asshat-y behaviour as her brother once put one fine morning.__

(Most times, she wasn’t certain whom her brother meant - the nobles, the Uchihas, or the Hyūgas. Or all of the above, actually.)

Shiun considered her mark: a girl in her early teens dressed in the finest of silks, dyed lightest purple; considered the hesitant steps she took as though unused to the crowd in the civilian marketplace; considered her straight and stiff back, head still held high and the perfectly poised hand tucked in front despite her discomfort.

It was a game her brother often played with her. _Guess _, he would say.__

Shiun didn’t remember who or when the game started, but it became a routine whenever her brother, being the head of the Kurama clan, could spare the time for her.

Her eyes drifted lazily to the sky, where the morning sun peeked over, a splash of light-kissed sundrop splayed across the canvas of blue and grey; then back to the busy street, and she watched the flow of people moving in and out, meandering to their destinations much like koi fishes in a pond. It was a sight she found soothing just to watch from a distance, and she did for a time. Until her brother’s voice pulled her from her reverie that was.

“So?” he prompted.

Her brother, Maki, sat on a roof tier above her, a leg dangling off the edge of the building. His hand sketched with a flurry of movement on a drawing pad that rested on his lap, an extra piece of charcoal laying next to him as sharp amber eyes flickered back and forth from the market scene to his work. She sat not so differently than him, with her chin resting on a knee pulled close to her chest.

She returned her attention to the market street. She watched as a pair of older-looking girls trail behind her mark at the shoulder in a similar fashion, and at a proximity that indicated familiarity, and yet some distance. _Attendants, perhaps_ , she hazarded a guess.

“Highborn. Or upper-class,” Shiun relayed. “She could be a merchant’s daughter, or just a visiting tourist.” She waited to gauge her brother’s reaction, but he gave nothing away.

“Is that all?” Maki merely said, not once looking up from his work.

“For the moment,” she answered.

Maki shot her a dry look. “You’re _stalling_. But time’s up,” he said. “Is that all you have?”

A slight tilt of head, and she considered. It was all she had gleaned from the distance before her attention drifted off. “Yeah,” she finally acquiesced.

Maki didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, his tone was wry. “I should hope that you’d recognise the 84th in line to the daimyō seat.”

“Someone still keeps track of that?”

“Pedigree is important business in the capital - you’ll see, one day, if you ever visit the place. There’s a lot of preening, especially in the daimyō court,” he explained. “Not unlike some of us here in the Village I suppose.”

“ _Us?_ ” she said, a little too innocently.

Amber eyes narrowed at her. “I know what you’re doing, and I’m not going to say it. It won’t do to worsen clan relations than it already is. And we’re already veered off-topic,” he said, almost chastising in tone. Then, with his other unoccupied hand, he gestured back down to the marketplace. “Daimyō’s distant relative. 84th in line. She still has a claim to the seat if she wanted it. You’re right on the account that she’s a highborn, and a tourists of sorts. But you missed something.”

At that, Shium followed the direction her brother pointed to. A fair distance, about two buildings back, the market crowd thinned to the sides and she saw the cause of it. Two men in traditional clothings and sheathed swords openly strapped to their sides followed obediently behind with hard faces. The throng parted away from them. Some openly gawked; some hurried away; only a minority continued to trod with their business. The reaction of the formers wasn’t surprising at the very least - Shiun had seen it happen a few times. There was a general policy in the Konoha to keep weapons sheathed, and if possible, not visible in heavy civilian-frequented districts. Everyone abided to it.

“Visible guards. Two of them,” she echoed. “Not doing a very good job at being inconspicuous though.”

A huff of laughter from Maki at her after comment. “ _Four_ visible guards, actually,” he corrected, and a small grin played at the corner of his lips.

Maki tilted his head at the building opposite them. The previously vacant rooftop, not a second ago, was now occupied. There was no mistaking the red glow in their eyes, or the red-white Uchiha fan insignia emblazoned on the shoulders of their grey uniform sleeves - a pair of Uchiha Military Police patrol.

“Oh,” she said, a little dully. “MP patrols.”

“Yeah. Missed that too,” Maki said. Then, he quoted from memory all the while as he continued to sound and look smug. “A shinobi may guess but mustn’t assume. A shinobi must always expect the unexpected, and the inevitable. Shinobi code number 35 and 10. Haven’t you learned that in the Academy yet?”

Shiun gave a huff. “Show- _off_.”

“Am not.”

“Am _too_.”

Maki laughed. “Anyways. Seriously, though, you can’t just write people off like that. You’ve got to see more, look a little broader, dig a little deeper. You hear me?”

It was a lesson she was growing accustomed to with or without her say so, she realised. Not when it was so thoroughly implemented and present in her daily, it simply became another fact in her life.

“Yeah,” she said. “I hear you.”

“Yeah? Good.” Maki surveyed the market with a sweep of his eyes, chin resting on his hand. “Alright,” he said. “Another one; an _easier_ one. I spy with my eyes: a lady in blue.”

And Shiun’s attention returned to the street below without missing a beat, honey-coloured eyes pinpointing her new mark.

The middle-aged lady in question wore a kimono the shade of muted blue, a grocery filled basket dangling at her elbow. She maneuvered her way through the crowd with practiced ease, not once did she bump into anyone or pause in her track. It spoke much of her familiarity of the district, and better yet, she was a familiar face Shiun recognised in the area.

“Housewife. Middle-class. She’s a regular at old lady Natsu’s stall,” Shiun said.

“I need more than that, _sprout_ ,” Maki drawled.

She rolled her eyes, but otherwise, amended. “She visits the stall every two days, but only ever buys the vegetables when it’s freshly delivered every third day of the week. She goes to the tea house at the end of the street after each visit to old lady Natsu’s stall.” Shiun stopped to contemplate the importance of the next piece of information. Then, decidedly, she added, almost like an afterthought. “She brings her kids to the market during the weekends, though _wrangled_ is a better suited term.”

Another huff of laughter from Maki. “A horrible gossip too, you didn’t mention,” he added.

“Is she?” Shiun straightened.

“She _is_ a horrible gossip,” Maki replied.

“But that’s _your_ opinion.”

“But it’s true.”

“Objectivity, brother,” she said. “You’re breaking the rules of your own game.”

Am not. What do you think she does returning to the same stall without purchasing anything -or _why?_ ”

“But,” Shiun said, “is she really a horrible gossip, or is it her _gossips _that are horrible?”__

__

__“Both, actually.”_ _

__

__“How bad?”_ _

__

__“ _Not_ for your ears, sprout,” Maki smoothly answered. “Not for your ears. Another one. I spy with my eyes: a running boy in green.”_ _

__

__And the game went on._ _

__

__The couple in red. The sleep-deprived teen in green. The grocer with the pink-stained apron._ _

__

__Right until a pair of stern-looking MPs from the opposite building informed them tartly about the obstruction of rooftop traffic and transversal; the dangers and rooftop safety measures (to Shiun), and negligence on Maki’s part in a tone that booked no further arguments, before they kicked the the pair of siblings off the roof with, not for the first time, an issued warning._ _

____

(Sticks up their asses, Maki had half-heartedly murmured out of earshot with a short huff of laughter.) 

____

Understandably, the Uchiha MPs were just doing their jobs. But, it didn’t stop Shiun and Maki from returning to the same perch after a round of sweets and warm honeyed tea, and they continued their game of I spy with more sweets for snacks.

____

____

This was her everyday life; a consistent part of it, and it was fine just the way it was.

____

. 

. 

But the peace didn’t last.

____

____

It was AF (After Founding.) 55 when Hatake Sakumo, the famed ‘White Fang of Konoha’, and his team reportedly returned to the Village with the stain of a failed mission hounding them when the Third Shinobi War broke out.

____

____

Konohagakure was, once again, at war.

__._ _

__._ _


	2. Chapter 2

.

.

Shiun was no stranger to silence.

It draped over the Kurama compound like a blanket. A familiar, comforting friend, she would say, but not everyone seemed to think so.

For as long as Shiun could remember, the Kurama compound had always been quiet, situated by the far west side of Konohagakure’s plains within her walls, with only the sanctuary of the forest, and nature’s echoes for its constant company. It was the perfect place to practice the clan arts without the hustle and bustle from Konoha’s hub of activity; it was a picturesque grassland for the more artistically inclined members of the clan.

But a different kind of silence permeated the air in the early morning; a slow, insidious blade that crept, waiting to strike.

The announcement of war the day before had thrown the compound into a grim, somber place. It reminded her very much of the silence that occupied the empty, decrepit houses with overgrown grasses - old memories that once possessed the breath of life - taking up half of the compound’s land by the old path leading into the forest.

Shiun stood with her siblings in the compound centre, where a small gathering had assembled to see the first batch of Kurama shinobi deployed to the war front off.

She watched as Maki clapped and patted the shoulders of the deployed shinobi - ten of them; men and women dressed in greys and green vest. One of them was barely in his teens. He looked on with a glint of something equally hard and heavy in his eyes. Some part of her seemed to think that the expression didn’t look right on his youthful face, still filled with baby fats. It made him look older than he actually was - too solemn, too haggard, and certainly too _old._

(Shiun didn’t miss the hooded bags that sagged under, or the slight watering in his eyes as he angled his head away when his family approached.)

Similarly, the branch head’s brother - Murakumo, her second cousin was one of the few to be drafted in. She watched as the brothers shared a brief but tight embrace in a private moment away from the crowd, and gave them some privacy.

The deployed shinobi bared the clan emblem on their forearms openly: a constant reminder that though their numbers were small, they - the Kuramas, did their part and contributed to Konoha’s war effort.

It was a show of unity in, and among clans in Konoha.

It was a show of force.

Another clap of shoulders here, some muttered words there, and a shared joke amongst the crowd that earned some chuckles and laughter, but not enough to fully dissipate the thick, heavy silence that hung over.

_Akigumo. Yaekumo. Kouka. Souun. Amagumo…_

These were the names and faces of her clansmen; her relatives in blood, people - family, she wouldn’t have the chance to see loitering around the compound for the next six months. Possibly the last time she would ever lay eyes on them. _That, was always a possibility_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like her brother echoed in her head, _even in the most peaceful of times_. It was a cold, cold thought to think that this farewell could very well be the clan’s final memory of them; that their absence would leave more of a lasting impression that their every day presence.

The grip over Shiun’s hand tightened, and she looked up to find her sister’s lips thinning into a firm line as her dark eyes stared somewhere off where the branch family stood. Idly, Shiun squeezed her sister’s hand in what she hoped was silent reassurance, and leaned into her side. In response, Uroko’s gaze flickered down at her, and a beautiful smile tugged at her lips.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered lowly, though the reassurance fell flat in Shiun’s ears.

_Was it?_ The question rested on the tip of her tongue, but Shiun held it in.

It wasn’t appropriate. It wasn’t the time. She could almost imagine the gloom of disapproval radiating off her sister at the breach of social etiquette if she did. Instead, Shiun merely nodded in answer, and gave her sister’s hand another squeeze, one which Uroko returned.

Slowly, the first ray of sunrise broke through the horizon, a reddish-orange glow cutting across the dark of twilight in the distance. A herald to a new day.

“It’s time,” she heard someone say.

One by one, the drafted shinobi picked their pack off the ground, and slung them over their shoulders. They stared right back at their families for a final time, eyes bright and boring deep in them as though to commit every single minuscule detail into memory.

Then, quiety, they departed.

And silence, as it always did, fell in the compound.

(But it was silence all the same.

She simply had to get used to it.)

_____._ _ _ _ _

_._

 

 

 

**Chapter Two**

**Illusions in the Morn**

.

.

Dancing in the empty, open room was a row of elegantly dressed women, garbed in rich and vibrantly dyed furisodes lined with gold. They each held a painted hand, delicately raised in the air.

Shiun leaned her head back against the shōji screen, toes tucking into her feet as she watched the dance with a critical eye.

The dancers glided across the space, moving in the gaps between each other as they split into two rows - front and back. A simple flick of wrist, sharp and purposeful, and the painted fans snapped open. The dancers hid their face behind their opened fans, the unmistakable visage of coyness as a comely smile pulled at their red, painted lips, and they fanned themselves. Another flick of wrist, and the fans shut in synchronised movements, all with a satisfying snap.

A rustle of fabric from the side drew Shiun’s attention, and she looked over. The shoji doors gave a loud shudder as Maki leaned roughly against it, mid-yawn and eyes bleary, hair still mussed from sleep. She frowned slightly at the rickety creak the door gave at the added weight - it was an old, delicate thing - but straightened her posture with a mean look at her brother, and returned her attention to the dance.

A play in light caught in her peripheral, and for a moment, it looked as though a haze of fog shrouded the dancers, blurry and smudged like ink, before they appeared full and whole in the next heartbeat when she blinked.

_A slip_ , she thought.

Shiun chanced a curious glance up to see if her brother had noticed it. She met his gaze, and recognised the knowing glint in his eyes, and it affirmed that he had indeed caught the slip too.

Arms raised, the dancers twirled right, long heavy sleeves swinging after, and it _glowed_ , slowly at first, then the bottom of their sleeves kindled alight with fire - a wild, flurry dance of bustling red, gold and orange, burning in light. The flames licked with a vicarious hunger for air, but the dancers continued to spin, unperturbed by the heat and flame as they left trails of fiery streak and smoke behind.

It was a beautiful, but then again, her sister had always had a way with weaving her illusions with a touch of her own dramatic flair of aesthetics. _A born entertainer_ , Unkai-ji would sometimes say.

Slowly, the flames dimmed, and when it finally died out, the dance came to a close.

The dancers aligned themselves in a line. They bowed low, bending at the knee, then made a move to rise. But mid-movement, they halted, and stayed unmoving and eerily still as though suspended in time.

“So?” a chime-like voice called. “What do you think?”

Without fanfare, the dancers unravelled, like puppets dropping when the strings were cut, falling onto the ground and dissipating into a mist of insubstantial vapours. Along with it, a wave of vertigo latched into Shiun’s temple, and the world spun - the dizziness was gone within the next heartbeat.

It took a moment to recover, but when she did, the empty space filled out into the layout of a sitting room with polished floorboards, a low table with some cushions in sight.

“Well?” Uroko waited with folded arms.

“It looks great.”

“You lost focus.”

Both Shiun and Maki said at the same time. They shared a glance - one of disbelief; and one wry.

“Wasn’t asking you.” Uroko flapped a hand in Maki’s direction. “Shoo.”

“You didn’t specify,” Maki shot back as he rolled his eyes. He strode inside, and headed for the kitchen, a mumbled _‘it’s too early for this’_ passing through his lips as he did.

“What brother said,” Shiun added, a little belatedly. “The dancers disappeared a little. In the middle sequence.”

“Still a work in progress then,” Uroko simply said. And she too, disappeared into the kitchen after Maki, long, light brown hair sashaying behind her. Shiun heard the clatters of cutleries being rummaged and the hiss of a running tap, and took a seat by the low table.

“What’s the occasion?” Shiun raised her voice to ask. Her answer appeared in the form of a red flyer on the table. She picked it up, eyes tracking the words from right to left, and dropped it back down. “A festival?” she said.

Uroko hummed in agreement. She appeared from the kitchen doorway with a bowl in hand, and set down a similar looking bowl in front of Shiun for breakfast: yogurt mixed with slices of banana. Uroko slid in the seat across her, smooth and graceful with the gait of a dancer.

“There’s a celebration in the capital in a few weeks time. The fifteenth anniversary of the daimyo’s prosperous rule in the Land of Fire.” Uroko explained between bites of her own breakfast. (Sometimes, Shiun admired the grace her sister switches from prim and proper to just Uroko, her sister, in and out of the comfort of their own home.) “Konoha has been invited to participate - specifically, us - the clan. We’re to entertain the daimyo’s esteemed guests.”

“ _We?_ ” Shiun clarified.

“Just her, sprout.” Maki pointed at Uroko with his mug. He plopped down next to her, and the bitter tang of coffee wafted under her nose. “And some other clansmen.”

The words didn’t fully sink in until a sudden restlessness stirred within her.

“You’re leaving?” she said.

Something must have caught in her tone, because a flash of concern shoned in Uroko’s eyes. “Not until a week,” she said, almost gently. She reached forward to hold her hand, and squeezed. “And it’s only two- week long mission. At most, I’ll only be gone for a month, give or take. I’ll even get you a souvenir from the capital.” Uroko smiled her beautiful smile.

“But-” Shiun bit down that protest. _Why had she done that?_

“Yeah?” Maki prompted.

(It was too soon.)

Shiun swallowed that thought. “Having a festival when we’re at-” _war_. She stopped, expression sour. The word hung with a weight in the air, but her siblings understood and exchanged a shared look that seemed almost solemn. “-seems counterproductive. It’s just _strange_ , is all.” Shiun finished.

A hand dropped onto her head to ruffle her hair. “Not really,” Maki drawled. “People need something to take the war off their mind. What’s better than a festival - a _huge_ one coming from the daimyo’s own coffer.” Then, softly, he said as the ruffling of her hair slowed. “Also, Konoha has to keep up appearances in the capital. Now, especially. It’s how we get missions, sprout.”

(She knew that, she did. But it doesn’t lessen the agitation she felt within.

She doesn’t notice the way her fingers tightened over her sister’s either.)

“Besides,” Uroko cut in lightly, “the festivities has long been planned since before the war started. But, the show must go on.”

Shiun continued to stare at their held hand.

She heard a sigh from Maki. “That wasn’t really what you wanted to say now, was it. What’s up, sprout?”

It was encouragement enough from her brother, and Shiun allowed that previous thought to continue. “It’s just… so soon,” she said, quietly. “Right after everyone had just left.”

For a while, Maki didn’t say anything, and something distinctly sad lingered on Uroko’s face. An arm looped around Shiun’s shoulders, and Maki pulled her into a hug, resting his chin on her head. Instinctively, Shiun leaned into the touch.

“I know, sprout,” Maki said. “I know.”

Uroko tugged at her hand, and with another squeeze, reassured her. “But, we’ll be okay. We _always_ have been - the three of us.” She turned their entwined fingers to the side and linked their pinkies, and shook once, then twice. “And we’ll be okay. Promise.”

Shiun didn’t know what was different. But this time, she found it in her heart to believe her sister, and slowly, a hint of a smile founds its way to her lips - one that didn’t go unnoticed by her siblings.

Shiun untangled their hands, and spooned her breakfast. “So, you said you’ll get me a souvenir,” she said. “Will you really get me one?”

Uroko laughed, a melodious lilt of sound. “Yes, yes, I will. What would you like?” She hummed and made a show of being deep in thought. “A kimono? Pink? Blue? With patterns of clouds?” she teased.

Shiun wrinkled her nose. “Purple.”

“How original,” Maki said.

Uroko flung her spoon at Maki - one, which he deftly evaded - sending a splatter of food all over the table, Maki’s clothes and her own face before it clattered to the floor, and out to the yard.

And Shiun laughed.

(It wasn’t her that had to clean up that mess after.)

Everything was going to be alright, she believed, and it was fine just the way it was.

.

.

“Ah, Shiun-kun, stay for a moment, would you?”

She paused in her track, and glanced curiously back to where Sasaki-sensei still sat seated, attention fixed upon the many pages of paperwork on his desk as he thumbed through them.

Classes were let out for the day, and the familiar buzz of noise buffeted against her ears. A stampede of footsteps sounded from behind, and she moved away from the path of a group of rushing boys, presumably off to play ninja, with a light step to the side. She watched them leave with a long, lingering look of enviousness (and some betrayal) that seemed to ached from deep within her soul.

(The notion of home sang a sweet, sweet tune. It beckoned her home.)

But, reluctantly, she broke away from the traffic clogging the door, and made her way to the front of the class.

It wasn’t often she was called to stay behind.

It was unheard of, actually.

And briefly, just briefly, she wondered if she had done something wrong. She doubted it. She would never risk the clan’s wrath upon her for a mere misbehaviour.

(Her behaviour in the Academy reflected the clan as a whole, after all.)

Sasaki-sensei smiled up at her when she approached. “How’re you with classes, Shiun-kun?” he said in lieu of greeting. “Keeping up so far?”

She nodded. “I’m doing alright.”

“That’s good. No questions about the lesson for me?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Good. That’s good,” he murmured, almost absently as he thumbed through another piece of paper. “Where’re your interest in specialising fields?”

The sudden question took Shiun by surprise, she drew a momentary blank.

“Or rather, do you have an interest in a specialising field?”

“Specialising fields?” she said, more to reassemble her thoughts than it was a question itself.

“That’s right. Specialising fields.” Sasaki-sensei’s lips quirked in amusement. She couldn’t tell, but the tone was most certainly there.

In all honesty, she had never given much thought about it. But she didn’t think Sasaki-sensei would appreciate that blatant frankess. He took his duties as an Academy instructor seriously after all.

(And one simply didn’t mouth off to a superior officer, even if he or she _was_ an Academy instructor.)

“Not really,” she answered, shoulders falling in a shrug. She pulled at the strap to her bag. “I don’t know yet.”

Sasaki-sensei gave her a small, but not unkind smile. “Nothing at all?”

Shiun made to shake her head, but stopped when a familiar, pale green emblem tattooed over her arm - one that she had gotten accustomed to seeing on her own bare skin - stared right back at her.

“I thought I would be slotted into Intelligence,” she said after a pause. “Infiltration, extraction, or an acquisition and retrieval specialisation, just like the rest of my family.”

“Ah, yes.” Sasaki-sensei nodded to himself, looking unsurprised at the answer. “That’s usually the common misconception among clan-born students. But it’s not always like that. I’ve said the exact same thing to some of them a few days ago - believe it or not.” He gave a short chuckle, and tapped at the edge of his desk with a pen. “Pull a chair. Have a seat.”

It was a good indication of a long, overdue conversation it seemed. But Shiun did exactly as she was told, and settled comfortably in her seat.

Sasaki-sensei cleared his throat. “While it’s true that a Nara, with their brilliant intellect, would be slotted in the Intelligence Division, and usually specialises in tactics and strategic-planning units; an Inuzuka and their canine partners would be best placed in a tracking and scouting team. In your case - your family specialises in item retrieval specific missions, and sometimes diversion. But we do take your interest and future plans into consideration. Your path isn’t set in stone just because of what your clan specialises in, Shiun-kun.”

“Okay.” She eyed him. She didn’t know what led or where Sasaki-sensei was leading with this line of inquiry.

(Talk of specialisation was a graduating class requirement - not for a second-year student.)

“I wanted to make sure that you’re aware of that.”

Shiun gave a slow nod in return.

“Though, considering your family’s history, you’d undoubtedly be a genjutsu specialist. My advice, is for you to branch out your skill sets. Being a generalist isn’t necessarily a bad idea. You would get more opportunities and a variety of missions. But you would have to cover all your bases - tai, nin and genjutsu, of course.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” she answered. “Thank you, Sasaki-sensei.”

He spun around to the cabinets behind him, then back to his desk. “Think on it.” He slipped a blank form of prospective shinobi fields across the desk to her. “You have till the end of week to hand that in.”

Another nod.

“I suppose you don’t have any questions for me again then, based on your silence,” he stated with a wry tone.

She humoured him with a small shake of head, and a smile. “Not at all,” she said. “Is that everything then, Sasaki-sensei?”

He seemed to think about it. “Actually, if you’re interested, Yakushi-sensei is looking for volunteers to help out with kunoichi classes. It would be a good opportunity for you.”

“Leadership skills,” Shiun dutifully answered.

“That’s right.” Sasaki-sensei nodded with some approval. “Imperative if you’re aiming for chunin and above.” And he gave her another smile, one that she found heartwarmingly sincere. “You’re a good student, Shiun-kun. Keep up the good work, and you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

_That_ , she highly doubted. Not if she was being pushed for early graduation.

.

.

Shiun had never given much thought about the way she lived. Or how she should live.

(It was a sobering thought.)

She laid outside in the yard, sprawled out with her arms and legs outstretched like a starfish. The grass underneath brushed against the back of her clothes and tickled her neck, but she paid them no mind. Instead, she turned her head to look at the offending piece of paper: prospective shinobi fields - the lights from the house cast a glow over it - that elicited such _philosophising_ thoughts.

(She didn’t know if she wanted to stare a hole into the paper, or bury it to never be seen again.)

As far as Shiun was concerned, there was always a plan; always what seemed to be a map of her life laid out for her to follow without question.

Enroll into the Academy. Excel in academics. Achieve the clan’s expectation of everything deemed relevant and necessary. Support the clan. Enlist into active military service of combat duty. Be an exemplary shinobi befitting of the clan, and the Konohagakure - just like her older siblings, her parents and the larger extended family of hers.

(Why should it be any different?)

It became a mere fact of her life.

Shiun stared up at the sky, and watched, transfixed at the way the beginning of nightfall, made of deepest and darkest blue, that seemed to blanket the warm, dimming stain of the summer sunset into a whorls of clashing colours. Complementary colours, she had learned from her brother’s palette of paints.

Crickets chirped, and the echoes of a hooting owl reverberated in the dark: a cacophony of nature’s call. From the inside of the house, she heard her sister humming a tune, and bustling about in the kitchen for dinner prep - it was hers for the night before she left for her mission tomorrow.

(An unwelcomed thought of her clansmen outside the safety of Konohagakure’s walls entered her mind - her sister will be one of them, soon.

It was another sobering thought.

She pushed it away.)

Shiun tried not to think too much of the state the compound was now in; of how much more quieter it was than usual - like the sudden dead of night; of how much more emptier some of the houses were.

(She hoped the compound wouldn’t stay _too_ quiet.)

The piece of paper remained clutched in her tiny hands, but she ignored it.

Shiun inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of earthen soil, and the slight of drizzle of rain from before, and let out a long, lengthy exhale.

_It was nice_ , she thought, _being out in the open space._

The light in the sky went out, and the stars peeked out, like the glow of a lantern in the dark. It reminded her of a fleeting dream she once had, of winking little lights in the distance, vivid and bright, adorning tall buildings seemingly made of glass, reaching heavenwards for the sky.

(A cityscape of glass - could anyone visualise such a sight?)

Cackles of footsteps on grass alerted her. _Deliberate_ , she thought, considering that she heard it. She craned her neck to find her brother approaching.

“There are better places to lie around, sprout.” Maki nudged her foot. “You’re gonna get bites and itches from all sort of bugs out here. Especially at this hour.”

“But the stars tonight are especially bright today,” she said. “See?”

Maki looked up. “That so?”

“Well, you don’t bother looking up much. So I don’t see how you might see the difference,” she said, airily.

A warning look from her brother was all she received when he kicked her foot - not hard enough to hurt, but enough for the momentum to move her onto her side - she allowed herself to roll once, then twice, and she was on her back again. She tried to stifle the the little giggles and snorts she gave as she did, but it was a losing battle.

She tried, really.

(It was the thought that counted after all.)

“Sometimes, I wonder where you get that cheek from,” Maki stated dryly.

“Mom,” she answered. “Or dad. One of them. Or both. I don’t know.”

(She’d never met them.)

“I’ll have to ask Unkai-ji then.”

“You do that,” she said. “I’ll be right here.”

Shiun wondered if she should be counting the neverending clusters of stars scattered about and hidden beneath the drifting clouds, like a game of hide and seek, waiting to be (un)found. It seemed like a fitting thing to do, especially at this time - she was in the perfect position too.

Maki plopped down beside her, arms folded and tucked beneath his head. “Alright,” he said. “So, what am I looking at?”

She pointed out a cluster of seven perfectly aligned stars. “The Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper.”

“A ladle,” Maki said.

“ _No_ , it’s -”

“I know. I know. Was just messing with you,” he said.

Then, her brother pointed somewhere north of where the constellation was, at a star that gleamed with a luminosity it _burned_ like a white flame - a beacon of light in the dark. “The brightest star in the sky - the North Star,” he murmured. “That’s how you find your way home.”

(Like winking little lights, vivid and bright, adorning buildings of glass.

There it was again, a strange longing that she could never seemed to comprehend, it came and went like a breeze - it ached sometimes.

It was _inconsistent._ )

“What’s going on, sprout?” She heard Maki ask. “You’re awfully _quiet_.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m always quiet - that’s what _you_ always say.”

“Yeah. That’s why I said _awfully_ \- more than usual.” He nudged her again with his foot. “Does it have something to do with that piece of paper in your hand?”

Shiun thought about it for a long while, but her brother, as he always did, waited, and waited for her. Sometimes, she thought he might wait an eternity for her. Then, she let out a sigh, almost forlorn in essence.

“I’m being pushed for graduation,” she said simply. It _was_ the truth.

(She didn’t see the wave of stiffness that passed through her brother’s entire stature, nor did she notice the brief flash of weariness on his features before he schooled it away.)

“What gave it away?” Maki merely asked.

She waved her paper. “Talk of specialisation.”

“Ah. ”

Shiun didn’t say anything for while, but her gaze stayed on the night sky. “I don’t know,” she said suddenly. “Specialisation, I mean. I really don’t know.”

(She’d never thought about it.)

“You’ll figure it out,” Maki said. He reached out to ruffle her already messed-up hair. “Not now, I mean. But, eventually, you will. ”

She let out a hum. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ll figure it out.”

“Eventually?”

“For sure,” he murmured. “That’s a promise.”

.

.

“No more than a month,” Shiun said, with some finality.

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Uroko wisely agreed with nod. “If nothing is delayed, of course.”

“ _No_.” Shiun refused to be budged. “No more than a month- that’s what _you_ said.”

“And we’re going in circles, Shi-tan.” Uroko smiled fondly as she swung their held hands back and forth, and again.

“What’s wrong with going in circles?” Shiun demurred in answer, blinking bright and innocent.

Her sister let out a chiming laugh, and pulled her into a hug. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Shiun broke away from the hug, but her grip still latched on to her sister’s hand. “A month _is_ long, sis,” she added.

With her other hand, Uroko tapped her nose - Shiun shied away a little too late. “You know what I mean,” she said, then teasingly, “ _sprout_.”

Shiun’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “You don’t usually call me that.”

“Only when you get smart with me. _Which_ is becoming a bad habit, if I might say.” She leaned back and crossed her arms.

Shiun huffed. But her eyes never once left her sister’s as she said, earnestly, “come back soon, okay?”

“As _soo_ n as possible,” Uroko reached out to squeeze her hand tightly. “With your souvenir, of course.”

With another final hug, her sister gave her a wave and then disappeared in a swirl of leaves that drifted lazily and ever so slowly to the ground.

(Shiun would have to clean that up later.)

And the compound was once again, left in its usual wake of silence, with only the accompanying birdsongs for company by her lonesome.

But Shiun was no stranger to silence.

It draped around the Kurama compound like a blanket. A familiar, comforting friend, she would say, but not everyone seemed to think so.

(But silence wasn’t always a friend.)

Shiun enjoyed the silence.

(Sometimes, Shiun found it _suffocating_ \- it was difficult to breathe.)

.

But it was silence all the same.

She simply had to get used to it.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. First off, thank you for reading. Thank for the kudos, bookmarks and comment. They keep me going, and inspired to write, so thank you!
> 
> Drop me a comment to let me know what you think; what you liked or disliked about the chapter; and what you would like to see more; thoughts and even speculations are welcome too :)
> 
> See you next time  
> ~NoxnNoir


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